


Build a Bridge

by Wonderlandgirl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Choose Your Own Steve, First Meetings, Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, Virgin Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonderlandgirl/pseuds/Wonderlandgirl
Summary: When Steve wakes up, alone, after a wonderful night and finds money left on his bedside table, first comes then incredulity, then comes the rage.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 15
Kudos: 149





	Build a Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first posted fic. Thanks to @BladeoftheNebula and @FestiveFerret for reading it over for me!

Steve stared at the money on the bedside table, incredulous.

He had thought that the evening before had been wonderful. He had met a handsome stranger at a bar and they had hit it off. After several hours of drinking & flirting, the subtle touches and innuendos had started to become more blatant on both their parts.

When Tony had asked Steve to leave with him, Steve had agreed, and had made the decision for them to go back to his place, though he had never done anything like this before. He had felt such a strong connection with Tony, such an intense feeling of rightness being around him that he decided to roll with it. And after all, at this point in his life he also didn’t want to wait any longer to finally make love with somebody.

Tony had been a force of nature when they finally got back to Steve's place, his hands and mouth running all over Steve's body, and encouraging the same from Steve, though he did listen when Steve had requested slow and gentle (at least for the first time) even though Steve hadn’t told him the reason. Steve had fallen asleep sore in places that he hadn’t been sore before, a smile on his face and wrapped in Tony’s arms.

So when he had woken up, with a hangover, and alone, already in a slightly miserable mood, with bills dropped haphazardly on the bedside table - like he was a hooker that had been picked up for the night instead of having one of the best nights of his life - he felt defiled and nauseated. His memories of last night were a high definition slideshow passing before his eyes; however a lot of the conversation, especially once they had got back to his place, was either hazy or blank.

After a quick look around, though without touching the bills, it didn’t look like Tony (if that was his real name!) had even left a number.

By now the nausea had started to fade as rage started to creep in.  
What he wouldn’t give to show that Tony a piece of his mind!

Steve stewed on all of this during his morning, and every movement that jolted those sore spots, which had seemed like such a benediction last night, now just made him see red.

This should have been a blissful occasion, maybe with some morning snuggling, another round, some breakfast possibly, but instead Steve’s Fight or Fight impulse (his Flight impulse never _did_ fully develop) reared its ugly head.

Tony had said that he was often at that bar and had seemed familiar enough with the staff members that that at least seemed true.

Steve started to put a plan together … well a plan might be wording it a little strongly. He was going to go to that bar every night until he found Tony and he was going to give him What For!

After a very unproductive day, stewing in his anger and disappointment (he really had thought that he and Tony had hit it off) he decided to head over to the bar after gathering up the cursed money and papers on his bedside table.

Luck seemed to be on his side, and Tony was at the bar sitting by himself.

Steve stormed up to him and tossed the bills in his face. “How dare you?” Steve hissed through clenched teeth. The cords of his neck were straining, and he was starting to turn a startling shade of red.

Tony blinked down at the bills, now strewn on the bar, then up at Steve in confusion, then his eyes widened in recognition. “What did I do?” The slightly startled response seems to provoke Steve's rage to apocalyptic levels.

“You... You... You…” The words seem to be lodged in Steve’s throat, and he swallowed roughly. “I thought we had a connection. I gave you my virginity last night and you just left money on my dresser like I was some kind of floozy and disappeared into the night!” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he blanched. He hadn’t told Tony last night he was still a virgin, and hadn’t intended to tell him how. He had wanted to seem more sophisticated and experienced than he actually was.

Tony’s face ran through a gamut of emotions, racing through confusion, incredulity, smugness, reminiscence, before settling back on confusion. “For starters, who says floozy anymore? Actually no, for starters, what do you mean you were still a virgin? How on earth did that happen? Or not happen as the case may be? Secondly, I didn’t disappear into the night as you say. I had appointments and meetings today that I couldn’t get out of, and I told you that in the note I left you and also left you my number. I was commiserating that I hadn’t heard from you today, as I didn’t have your number and didn’t want to wake you. And let me tell you me, having actually to use a pen and paper... You should be honoured instead of standing there all insulted. And thirdly I didn’t leave the money for the sex. I’m not that sort of man. If I am having that sort of sex its all very upfront. I don’t just assume anyone I pick up in a bar is a sex worker, and leave them money. What sort of man do you think I am?”

While Tony was speaking, Steve seemed to deflate like an air mattress with a slow leak. “What note? I didn’t see a note? And if the money wasn't for sex, what was it for?” Steve queried, as he slumped onto a bar-stool at Tony's side.

“The note under the money,” Tony replied.

“Ah,” said Steve, a trifle sheepishly. “I didn’t actually look at the money before I swept it all up.”

They both looked at the scattered bills on the counter, and Tony spotted the note he had left mixed in amongst them. “Here it is,” he said as he handed it over.

Before Steve could look at the note, Tony went on. “The money was for the painting I bought off you last night. Do you not remember that? The one with the bridge with my tower in the background.”

Steve put his head in his hands while Tony was talking. Now that he mentioned it, Steve had the faintest stirrings of recollection of showing off his paintings when they had got back to his place last night. The memory had be pushed out by the double whammy of the sheer sensation of having sex for the first time and the potent alcohol in his blood stream.

“Oh,” he meeped out, as he flushed with shame thinking of what he had accused Tony of. In a public place no less! He raised his head and looked around. They had attracted some attention, though no-one was being really overt in their watching. He hoped to any available deity that no-one was live tweeting this! He looked down at the note in his hand.

‘ _Steve_ ,’ the note read. ‘ _Parting is such sweet sorrow, but I have appointments I have to get to today. I loved what I saw last night, & I'd love to see some more. Both of your artwork and your wonderful self. Here is the money for the painting we discussed, and I have taken it with me this morning. Call me sometime soon, here's my number xxxxxxxxxxxx_  
 _You know who I am._ ’

Steve snorted out a small laugh, then looked at Tony who had been watching him with a small grin on his lips. “Tony, I can’t begin to apologise for what I accused you of,” Steve started.

“No big deal” Tony interrupted. “I’ve been accused of worse, and this was at least entertaining. I haven’t had money chucked in my face in anger before. Now back to the important questions. Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin, hmmm?” Tony waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I thought you might not still be interested, and I didn’t want to seem like an inexperienced, unsophisticated hick. I loved everything that we did last night, and I’m glad it was you.” Steve had been absent-mindedly fiddling and stacking the bills on the bar while he was talking to help negate the embarrassment, and he put them in his pocket, now that he knew it was all for one of his paintings.

“Well” Tony leaned back on his bar stool, with a thoughtful expression on his face. “If that was your first time, I'm looking forward to seeing how good it can get as you learn more. Want to go back to mine for some one-on-one tuition?” The eyebrow waggle was back.

Steve blushed again but nodded. Now that the rage was gone, he was getting the same feelings back that had caused him to take Tony home with him last night. The flirtiness and lust for sure but also the feeling of safety and security that seemed to emanate from the man.

Tony got up, left some money to cover his drinks and held his hand out to Steve. Steve stood up, took his hand and followed him out the door.

**6 Months Later**

The painting of the bridge with Stark Tower in the background that had sort of kick-started this whole this, hung in Pride of Place in Tony’s workshop, where he could see it all the time. Next to it, was a slightly newer piece of art in a shadow box. It looked like money flying through the air, coming down like it was a snow globe, frozen in time. If viewed closely, it could be seen that this was actual currency. There was a handwritten note peeking out between the bills. Steve and Tony thought that it was fitting that the painting, note, and money that had caused such confusion, but had played such a vital role in bringing them together, be kept together as well.


End file.
